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Bucky wakes up, shivering, on the couch. The Winter Soldier screams at him to look around, to scan the house for some unseeable threat, so he kicks off the blanket and stands.
He starts in the living room, checking in corners and behind and under furniture and making sure all the windows are shut and locked until the Winter Soldier deems it safe and tells him to move on. He goes to the kitchen and dining room next, doing the same thing there, then the bathroom, the boy’s room, then Sarah’s, and finally ends up in Sam’s.
Sam stirs while he’s checking the locks on the window and Bucky freezes.
Sam blinks at him hazily. “Buck?”
Bucky stares at him.
“What’re you doin’ up?” Sam slurs, southern accent thicker than usual with sleep in a way that makes Bucky want to feel calm and relaxed.
“Checking the locks,” Bucky mutters back.
Sam just blinks at him, confused, and Bucky realizes he accidentally said that in Russian.
He clears his throat and, this time in English, says, “Uh. Nothing. Sorry. Just wanted to… I had a bad dream, I think.”
“Oh.” Sam sits up, rubbing the sleep from his face with a yawn. “Wanna talk about it?”
Bucky hesitates, the Winter Soldier wary, until he decides that yes, actually, he does want to talk about it, and sits down stiffly when Sam offers him a spot on the bed next to him.
“I was- well, the Winter Soldier was, and we woke up on the couch, and Hydra was there, and they said the- uh, the code words,” Bucky explains, staring down at his hands. “And they made us… they told us to- we had to kill you. And Sarah. And the kids. And we did.”
It comes out as a whisper, barely audible over the chirping of the crickets outside the window.
Sam’s silent for a long moment. Then he prods Bucky in the shoulder, smiling slightly. “You wanna go make brownies?”
Bucky leans his head back, confused. “What.”
Sam hops over him to get out of the bed. “C’mon. My mom and I used to bake brownies whenever I had a bad dream as a kid, or if I just wasn’t feeling good. She’s gone now, but… Sarah and I do it with the kids. It’s like a tradition now.”
He heads out to the kitchen, Bucky following more slowly behind. When he arrives, 40s music is playing quietly over a portable Bluetooth (Bucky still doesn’t understand what the fuck that is, though) speaker.
Bucky pauses, a slow grin taking over his face. “Is this Vera Lynn?”
Sam turns to face him. “Is it? I don’t know, I just shuffled a 40s playlist on Spotify.”
“It is,” Bucky confirms, taking a moment to listen to it. “It’s called ‘We’ll Meet Again’. This was, uh. Steve played this for me just before I shipped out.”
“Did you dance?” Sam teases.
Yes. They did. Bucky’s not going to tell Sam that, though. Not yet. “Nah.”
“Wanna come mix the wet ingredients?” Sam offers, holding out a glass mixing bowl with a wooden spoon stuck in it. “And I’ll get the dry ready and we can mix ‘em together.”
Bucky snorts, taking the bowl and cradling against his chest, mixing with his metal arm. “I know how to make brownies, Sam.”
“O-ho, old man knows how to bake!”
Bucky rolls his eyes, leaning back against the counter. “‘Course I do. I grew up poor, Sam. Never really had the money to go out to eat, did I? ‘Cept these’ll probably taste better. Ours were just coca, sugar, water, eggs, and flour. Cheap.”
Sam wrinkles his nose. “That sounds-“
“They weren’t too bad,” Bucky interrupts. “Actually pretty good for what we had. My sister always made them the best, though. I don’t know how, but…”
“You must miss her.”
“I do,” Bucky admits. “But I’ve gone to visit her, and her kids say she went in her sleep, so. At least she’s with ma and dad now.”
“Her kids? You mean you got nephews?”
“Yeah. And great-grands. Real young. But they… they don’t want anything to do with me. I think I scare them, cause of the whole Winter Soldier thing.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam says quietly.
Bucky shrugs one shoulder, changing the subject. “You got the dry stuff ready?”
“Here.” Sam dumps a mixture of various dry ingredients into Bucky’s bowl while he stirs steadily. “You know, sometimes we’re scared of things we don’t know or understand.”
Bucky nods. “I gave my- my nephew and my niece my number. In case they ever want to call me.”
“That’s good, Buck,” Sam says. “Giving them the option without forcing yourself on them. That’s the best you can do, you know?”
“She looks just like her mother, Sam,” Bucky whispers.
Sam pats his shoulder. “Give them time.”
“Yeah,” Bucky mutters. “This is mixed.”
“Awesome,” Sam exclaims, grinning. He dips his finger in and licks it, groaning at the taste. “Oh, man, that is-“
“Samuel Thomas Wilson, what the hell are you two doin’ up?”
Sam spins around, eyes wide and guilty. “Uh, hey, Sarah-“
Sarah crosses her arms, glaring at her brother. “Y’all’re gonna wake up the boys.”
“Sorry, miss,” Bucky says, shooting her a bright smile. “Samuel here wanted to make brownies.”
“Without us?!” AJ pouts, skidding to a stop in front of Bucky, Cass not far behind him. “C’mon, Uncle Sam, midnight-brownies time is family time! All of us, together!”
“See what you’ve done?” Sarah scolds. “They have school in the morning!”
Sam rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on, Sarah. Just let them stay up until the brownies are done. It’ll only take half an hour or so, right Buck?”
“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, still caught up on AJ’s ‘family time’ comment.
Next to him, the Winter Soldier smiles.